When you open your Bible to read, what is your goal?

It is a simple question that the Lord dropped into my thoughts several years ago. I’d never really thought about it. I was a church kid. I grew up attending church every Sunday and Wednesday. I attended, and later taught in Vacation Bible Schools. I was a champion memory-verse reciter. I grew up, married, and went on to attend Bible College. I studied scholarly works on church history, theological arguments, and Biblical literary devices. I understood that the Bible was true and that God had set it out as a guide for living.

As I began to really ponder the question that God had posed, however, I found that my answers were lacking. I opened my Bible to prepare lesson plans. I opened it to find a support verse for a point of argument. I opened it when I was hurting to find a nugget of encouragement. I opened it to read about familiar characters when I wanted to remind myself of how I was supposed to act – be LIKE faithful David or Esther; DON’T be like evil Haman or betraying Judas.

When I opened my Bible to read, I was looking for what I had been taught to look for: the formulas and rules for leading a “good Christian life.” My reading was all focused on who I was in relationship to the material. Holy Spirit began to convict me that there was more to His Word than that. I began to ask another question: if I was missing the depth and breadth of the book, if my goals in reading it were too shallow, what was God’s goal in writing it?

It was as though I felt the Spirit inside me say, “YES! Now you’re asking the right questions!” Scripture says that Holy Spirit is given to us to be our teacher; that He will guide us into all truth, taking what is of the Father and the Son and instructing us in it. (John 14 & 16) As I opened my Bible again, starting at the very beginning, I began to read while also asking Holy Spirit to show me God’s goal.

Y’all. It changed everything.

God’s goal as author, as breather-out of words that faithful men would pen and publish, was so very different from what I had been taught. From the very beginning, it wasn’t about keeping me in line. It wasn’t about giving me a leg to stand on in arguments against worldly wisdom. It wasn’t about giving me role models to live up to. It wasn’t about cautioning me against bad behaviour. Those things are in there and are helpful. The humans in the story are characters and have their story arcs. But those characters and settings and plot points in Scripture rest on and flow out of the author’s heart: to help us to know Him.

In the beginning, when God created all that He created, He developed an environment that was suitable for the sustaining of humanity. This earth was designed to support our lives. Our bodies were formed and His breath of life shared with us so that we would walk with Him, be His companions, be known by and know Him fully. That relationship was severed harshly and dramatically when we decided that we couldn’t trust Him and acted in what we thought was our own best interest. Much is stated about what we humans lost that day that sin entered perfection and ruined it. Rarely do we consider what He lost.

He lost communion with the creation that He had built the whole world to sustain. He lost daily walks in the garden, discussing anything and everything. He lost the confidence of His people; where we had trusted, now we doubted. Where once we knew His heart and intentions toward us, now we suspected Him of manipulations or unfair dealings. Our own sense of guilt and shame colored our perception of His actions on our behalf. The peace and beauty of His world was now scarred with thorns and barren places. His heart was broken over His loss. He grieved. He made a plan to restore the prized relationship that He had painstakingly cultivated.

He inspired the writers of Scripture to set down the stories of His interaction with humanity because He could no longer walk in openness with us. Although we were unable to know Him fully and intimately, He didn’t want us wandering around in our misconceptions of who He is. Every single story that I was taught as a hero or villain story – a role model of the faith or a cautionary tale of an evildoer - is also a story that reveals the heart and character of God. Every point that I was handed as a defense against worldly wisdom is also a spiritual principle that teaches how God designed His world, the world He designed for our sustenance not our destruction, to operate.

When I open the Bible now, I ask Holy Spirit to show me Who GOD is in every passage. He wrote this for me to know Him. He is the main character driving all of the action. His relationship to every other character teaches me about my relationship to Himself. His joys and griefs, the things He loves and the things that anger Him, His desire toward me and toward all His people, the actions He has taken in His role as Creator, Sustainer, Judge, Redeemer… all these things are knowable about Him.
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He is not hiding. We are the ones who hid from Him in the garden. He has always desired for us to know Him. The whole story of Scripture is Him literally moving heaven and earth to restore our relationship back to that time when we walked naked and unashamed in His presence. Opening my Bible with that perspective has made it come alive. There is no mere obligation of study, no weighty expectation of imposed will or judgmental condemnation.  Rather, I find the passionate, persistent, insistent writing of the One who knows me best seeking to share all of Himself with me. 

Packed clay underfoot, rocks creating raised obstacles, rivulets of runoff rainwater (or wastewater?) carving out crevasses in the pathway, patchwork corrugated tin and scrapwood homes packed tightly together and standing so low that I have to stoop my 5’2” frame to enter, the reek of the nearby dumpsite permeating the air. Korogocho Slum, Nairobi, Kenya.

This is a story about the slum. It is not a story of poverty. Not a story of loss or deprivation. Not a story to elicit crocodile-teared sympathy that results in manipulated responses.

It is a story of hope. Of light in the darkness. Of transformation.

Dan and I were privileged to be invited to walk these narrow pathways during our most recent trip to Kenya in December of 2023. Our dear friend, Pastor Steve Mbugua, honored us by sharing his childhood home with us. We have loved and ministered with Steve and his wife, Mary, since 2018, but this was the first time we had travelled into this part of the slums.

Built directly adjacent to the dumpsite that provides sustenance for the residents, Korogocho is a place full of all of those things that I said this story is not: poverty, crime, deprivation and depravity. Yet in the middle of all of this darkness, the light of Jesus is shining brightly.

Pastor Steve grew up here. As we followed him through the streets and alleyways, he matter-of-factly pointed out the places where he scavenged in the dumpsite for food, the corner where he was stabbed, the exact location where he was shot and left, the home where he hid from the police. We visited the low, dirt-floored homes with no light and scant furnishings, praying with the residents who spoke of their illnesses and needs.

Winding through what seemed endless rows of dark and dire homes, we came to one that was different. It, too, was built of corrugated tin sheeting. It, too, had a low door. As we entered, however, the floor was well-packed and the walls were covered with cheerful fabric. The small room held couches and an inviting light. We were introduced to the beaming woman who had welcomed us in with no hesitation. This, said Pastor Steve, was his one-time supplier of drink, drugs, and a hiding place from the authorities.

As we sat and listened, we learned the testimony of this precious lady. Pastor Steve had met Jesus in a most dramatic way. Fully convinced that God was real, Jesus was His Son, and that there was a way out of the life he had previously lived, his first person to share the Good News with was this woman who had been a guardian over him, protecting him as well as she might in their shared life of hopelessness in the slum. She received Jesus as her own, and in turn, led her daughters to knowledge of the One who could reach even into this place to transform darkness to light, hopelessness to hope, and could give them a future.

The joy of her salvation beamed from her face as we chatted. Our visit was made even sweeter by the opportunity to meet not only her daughters, but their daughters. In this family, the generational curse of the slum was broken by the power and authority of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Now, they walk as a testimony in the middle of the darkness.

Among homes falling down from disrepair, theirs stands neat and clean. In a place where darkness reigns, their home is full of light. Surrounded by mud and discomfort, a soft place is found to lay their heads.

They don’t keep it to themselves. This family of women of God, daughters of the King, once transformed, now pray for their neighbors. Where once they offered a harbor for criminal activities, they now offer a place where the criminals can lay down that life and receive renewed purpose. Where violence was once common, now peace is the standard. They cook and provide food for hungry neighbors. Singing and joy pour out of their door. Smiles of welcome and peace light their faces. Where they have opportunity to do good to others, they take it.

The stark difference between their home and every other home we entered that day cannot be overstated. But what difference will it really make, you ask? It’s a pretty story of one family; in all of that mass of poverty and despair, what difference will it make? My answer to you is that when we came away from that place, that 1.5 square mile press of 200,000 people, it was their home that burned in our memory.

Kindled in that great darkness is a light that stands out; do not think that it goes unnoticed by those who pass by it daily. Do not think that kindness is a spark that will not spread. That joy is an ember that will smoulder and go out. Make no mistake. The shine of Jesus in their eyes and the warmth of the Spirit flowing in their actions will draw others. The fire of God, once lit and resting in a place cannot help but catch and spread. The darkness will fight it, of course, but the dark can never withstand the light for long. It is overcome or it flees.
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“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” -Matthew 5:14-16

He should have been dead before his first birthday. But he was rescued. Raised by a princess among her people, the enemies and captors of his own. Emotionally explosive with a finely honed sense of justice, resulting in the murder of an abuser as well as the rescue and assistance of women set upon by tradesmen. Exiled from his palatial home yet entrusted with the business holdings of his father-in-law. Moses was a complex man with a complicated history when he encountered Yahweh at the burning bush on Mt. Horeb.

Like most of us, Moses was keenly aware of all of his flaws and shortcomings. In his time out shepherding Jethro’s flocks, I wonder how often his mind had dissected his own missteps that led him out of a life of comfort and into the hardships of livestock farming in the wilderness? Had he spent hours thinking “If only I had…”? Did he look at his wife and child and decide that they were worth all of the difficulties he had faced? Was his a standard human life, with its unique backstory, individual trials and triumphs, and very own set of internal wranglings? If we read Exodus, it sure looks like it.

Which means that, no matter how messy or mundane our own story may be, when Yahweh calls our name, if we will turn aside from the path we’re on to see what He wants, we may find, like Moses, that we’re more than we think we are.

God called Moses by name. He told Moses who He was: “The God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, I AM WHO I AM.” I love that when God calls us aside, He always makes it personal and starts with reminding us of His own might and person. It’s not a power play, but a confidence-builder. It’s our Father saying to us, “Trust me, kiddo. I’m asking you to do this thing. I know you, your capacities and incapabilities. I also want you to remember who I am and that I’m not asking you to go by yourself. I’m with you every step of the way.”

Every one of Moses’ completely valid arguments : exiled status from Pharoah’s palace,  lack of social standing and political authority among the Israelites, the likely incredulity of others when told that he had actually seen God, his personal communication style not being terribly charismatic; all of them were answered in one of two ways: “I am with you, trust me,” or “here’s what I can do with what you do have.” Yahweh didn’t feed Moses empty flattery. He didn’t say that Moses was judging himself too harshly. He didn’t refute his shortcomings. Y’all. HE KNEW THE HUMANITY AND WEAKNESS OF THE MAN HE HAD CALLED. He also knew that if that man would trust Him with the little that he did have, God could and would work the miraculous for an entire nation through him.

That is beautifully true of every one of us that has heard God call our name. All of those failings that you’ve turned over a thousand times in your head? He knows them. The regrets you have in your past and the ongoing repercussions of them on your present? He’s aware. The lovely things that have come into your life that aren’t what you ever expected but that you hold dear now? He was happy to give you those good gifts.
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That thing that He’s asked you to do WITH HIM? That really big, scary thing that will draw you back into relationships that were dicey the last time you saw the person? The task that will have you collaborating with people way out of your league? The battle you’re about to wade into with skills and training that leave you feeling exposed and vulnerable? The calling that’s going to lead you out of the comfortable anonymity of the wilderness and into a judgmental public eye? He knows exactly who you are. He chose you. He called you. He is enough to bring you through it victorious. Like Moses, if you trust Him, you’ll make it from the questioning and doubt of Exodus 4 to the boldness, confidence, and effectiveness of Exodus 7 – 12. In your weakness, you will find His strength made perfect.
 

There I was, enjoying a breezy Summer Junior (it’s Florida, we don’t really have “Spring”) evening on my back porch. The sun was almost fully set, the bug zappers were keeping the mosquito population to a minimum, and I had my feet propped up after a long day. The neighborhood had fallen into that late-evening hush.

The quiet was broken violently as something dropped from my rooftop into a bushy tree that grows up close to the house on the porch side. Bolting upright to catch a glimpse, all I could see was a flash of fur as the intruder launched itself away from the tree, leaving its branches wildly swaying. We’ve had racoons traverse our rooftop in the past, but the oak tree they favored has been cut down since last year, and we haven’t seen any since. There is a healthy neighborhood population of stray cats, but none of them has any reason to be atop the roof, and their size isn’t consistent with the force of whatever had visited us.

I couldn’t come up with any answer to my speculations of what may have shattered the stillness of the evening.

Then, I read a local news social media account the next morning. It seems that a wildlife sanctuary had misplaced one of its monkeys! The monkey in question had been photographed on a rooftop two blocks from my home that day. A monkey leaping from my roof wasn’t even in my mental menu of what may have happened. How out of left field! How far beyond what I would have even considered as possible…even for Florida!

We’re limited like that, aren’t we? Our minds can only come up with options that fit a framework of our known experiences and expected variables. Yet our God has infinite creativity. His thoughts can consider events and outcomes that would leave us dumbfounded. That creativity – and the power to act on it – is turned toward us with compassion.

That crazy, impossible monkey on my roof led me to Isaiah 55.

Seek the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it. (Isaiah 55:6-11)

Our ever-creative Lord brought an unpredictable, unimaginable thing into my life – hurtling with force off of my roof, awakening my senses and my adrenaline responses – reminding me that He is capable of so much more than I ever consider. Inviting me to seek out His thoughts, to call on him for understanding, He used a monkey that was not mine to draw me to consider all that is His.
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When the unexpected shows up in your life, may you be reminded to seek the One who is able to use all things to draw you back to Himself. 

Believers are told in the Scripture to speak to one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. A song that we learned while in Kenya has been ringing in my heart, and I thought that perhaps I would be obedient to the Word and share it with you.
 
It is simple – as most statements of truth are. It is encouraging. It is a reflection on the confidence we may have in the One in whom we live, move, and have our being. It is a reminder of all that He has been to us and that He remains unchanged.   It is an invitation to trust.
 
Wherever your path has taken you today, whomever you perceive stands in your way, may these words encourage you to remember the One who has the final say.